Lie to these Dogs
by Geu23
Summary: Cal Lightman left behind a troubled past in Britain, thought the past would remain water under the bridge and it remained that way until recently when it came to whack him in the face with the one man that walked away... He was standing in front of him.
1. Prologue

_Discalimer: I don't own anything except for the idea of playing with the plot :)  
>Warning: Kindda spoiler for Lie to Me's Canary Song; Spoiler for Reservoir Dogs<em>

BEFORE YOU READ:  
>Since Cal Lightman's history is unknown mostly I thought why not do this... Mix in Reservoir Dogs when he was about twenty something before he left Britain to USA. So the whole Reservoir Movie took place in Britain for this fanfic (IT'S AU) and I hope it'll be all right cause I'm still getting the grips of both of the categories of this fanfic. I'll be studying both the movie and the episode to hopefully make this story more believable and hopefully more better.<p>

_Thanks goes to those that gave this story a chance and I hope to hear from you soon._

_*Sit back, be comfortable and enjoy.  
>** Sorry that it's short; the next chapter will be longer, promise<em>

**Lie to these Dogs*  
>Down Memory Lane<strong>

He looked at the mirror, his hand lightly brushing over the scars that remained after the doctors had pulled out the three bullets. He remembered how close he came to dying; his blood pouring out of his belly, his nerves dancing with fiery pain as the bullet remained buried in his flesh. Then he received another painful shot from Joe to the ribs (which managed punctured a lung as it slid between the fourth and fifth rib) before the cops arrived and another from Larry after the rest of the cops had entered.

He lifted his hand and touched his cheek, his eyes turned inwards as he continued to remember.

The cooling barrel of the gun was pressed against his cheek as he gasped for air, held by Larry – Mr White – who stared at the squad's gun barrels. The hand holding the gun was trembling and the angle shifted and a shot rang out.

White hot pain blurred his vision as the bullet tore and buried itself into his shoulder; he didn't hear the other shots that rang out as they killed Larry over the roar that filled his ears, didn't see Larry fall backwards with his eyes dimming as death took over; as tears broke free and dripped down his wrinkled, familiar face.

He splashed water over his face and pulled on his black shirt and walked out of the bathroom. Today was another day of work, there was time to ponder the past later.

**Lie to these Dogs**

He waited outside the usual bar, leaning against the wall, hands in his jacket pockets. He was waiting for Wheels and Cross, two of his usual – not to mention criminal – gambling buddies. The three of them would then head down the alley and walk (for Wheels, he'd wheel his way there) into their usual spot through the backdoor and get ready for their game.

He pulled his sleeve up, glancing at the watch. They were late; about fifteen minutes late. He couldn't get into the room because Cross was this week's password keeper since Brazzi came up with the system after their first game.

This week amongst the three of them it would be Wheels, then the next next week it'd be him. It was a rotation between the three of them. He heard men talking to his left, near the corner of the bar. He could hear that it was definitely Wheels and Cross but they had another person with them.

He paused, thinking. Was another guy joining the game? His answer came rather quickly when Cross and Wheels turned the corner with a thin, fairly short man who looked exactly like…

"Jimmy! Sorry we're late! Cross got this guy," Wheels pointed to the other man who was staring at him with shock, "to tag along since he likes to play and he's got a lot of dough."

Cross nudged the man, tilting his head. "Hey, man. What's got into you? You look like you've seen a ghost," Cross said with a laugh.

Cal stepped forward his eyes not leaving the man that was supposed to be buried deep in his past all the way in Britain.

"Of course he's seen a ghost," he stated as he approached the 'professional' thief. "Long time no see, eh, Mr Pink?"

**Lie to these Dogs***

_Word count: 570 (without Author's Note)_**  
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	2. Tipping the Scales of Fate

_WainGuy here! Here's the next installment of Lie to these Dogs! Thanks goes out to those that read, fav-ed and alerted this story! This chapter is dedicated to _SinVeritas _who reviewed! Thanks so much for the review! Made me smile :) I hope you enjoy the chapter and I hope to hear from you all :)_

_Disclaimer: This is fanfiction, of course nothing would belong to me... Except the idea... maybe..._

_Warning: None_

_*Note: Be sure that you are comfortable and are in a well lit room when reading! Wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable or lose your eyesight when reading XD_

**Chapter 01  
>Tipping the Scales of Fate<strong>

He sat at his desk, feet propped up with ankles linked on his desk, and a file was open in his lap. But he was not concentrating on his work, his mind drifting back to a time he wanted to remain buried and he was not happy; this was not the time to think about that, he needed to work.

He couldn't think of the time he was riddled with bullets, pain blinding him with a gun held tightly in his hands. Holding the same gun that had killed a mother of three and a madman named Mr Blonde who was later named Vic Vega.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, this was getting tiresome. Ever since meeting Mr Pink a few nights ago at the poker game. He was different but still the same in some ways. Still didn't believe in tipping and had a bloody mouth that spoke much nonsense. But it seemed that prison hadn't been kind to the older man; his hair was streaked with grey and white hair, he had scars on his hands and one on his chin.

Good thing that Cal didn't go to prison then. Too bad the undercover mission went down the drain with fifteen dead; all because Vic went berserk with his trigger happy fingers on the four clerks.

He was forced out of his thoughts when the door to his office was slammed open by a man he knew (due to unfortunate circumstances – the aftermath of the blotched job) stormed in, red faced with a flustered Heidi trailing behind him.

Cal felt nothing as he stood up and the man stopped in front of his desk. The man had white hair with a scruffy beard on his face; he stood hunched, hands crossed in front of his chest.

"Mr Brennan," he greeted, no smile or frown on his face.

"Lightman," he greeted coldly.

Cal looked at Heidi and gave her a crooked smile and said, "It's alright, luv. Just close the door on your way out."

His receptionist gave his a worried look and made to argue but he shook his head and nodded towards the door. Heidi looked at him again then at Mr Brennan before she reluctantly walked out, closing the door behind her.

He turned his focus back to Mr Brennan and noticed that the anger was still there but his face wasn't as red as when he had stormed in. Cal had hoped the man would not be involved in his life then it already did but the fates were stating otherwise.

"For what happened last time I am guessing this is no social visit," Cal said, studying the older man in front of him.

Mr Brennan crossed his arms and his frown deepened. "Of course not. I'd never visit you for anything; not after what you did to my family."

The accusation was there and it was completely justifiable; it was Cal's fault and it had caused the older man to grieve and explain to his three grandchildren why their mother wasn't coming home.

He had not meant to shoot her, didn't mean to hit her in the shoulder and have her lie on the road, bleeding to death from the wound. But she had shot first and he responded in the same way… Like an eye for an eye except in his case she died and he got away with a bullet in his gut.

Cal placed his hands in his pockets and leaned back slightly. "So why are you here then?"

Mr Brennan looked away, shoulder hunching and he looked uncomfortable. Well, in his situation, it would definitely be uncomfortable – even hateful – situation to be in the same room, much less talking to, the man who murdered his daughter.

Hell, Cal would have probably killed the guy who tried to even think about hurting his Emily. Mr Brennan was a man who had great control over his feelings but his body not so much.

"I came here," he muttered as he looked around the room, just not at Cal, "because I need your help."

Cal raised an eyebrow. Now what could this man, the father of a woman he shot and killed, need his help for?

"Help? From me? Why would you want that?"

Mr Brennan looked at him and shuffled his feet. "I need you to help me find my grandchildren."

**Lie to these Dogs**

Ben Reynolds was looking through the files, flipping through pages of white paper with black inked words and scrawled signatures that decorated the dotted lines. He was bored and his eyes were tired.

After the incident where he almost died by following Lightman to the station that landed him with multiple bullets in his body and a few weeks in the hospital, however when he came back to work, he found out that they were no longer working with the Lightman Group because Cal Lightman had terminated the contract, claiming he didn't like to be treated like some work dog.

But it turned worse when he found out that he was signed to do desk duty due to his failure to inform his superiors what Cal was up to and that he needed to go for frequent visits to the doctors. It pissed him off in so many ways but he had to do it because he wanted to keep his job.

Ben closed another file and placed it in the read-through-and-it-is-not-important stack on his left before he took out another file and opened it. The file had a red colour cover – unusual when most were black or blue – and it was thicker.

He shrugged and thought nothing of it and flipped through it. It was a very old file and it wasn't printed like all the other files, if anything it mainly consisted of written scrawl with a line or two in fine print. Some pages were yellowed and had stains.

It started with discussions on how they would get a man named Joe Cabot and his son 'Nice Guy Eddie' Cabot that ran a family business with the mob. They had wanted to catch the two men when they finally came up with a plan.

He froze completely when he saw the name for the undercover cop. Cal Lightman.

**Lie to these Dogs**

_Words: 1, 068 (without the author's note)_

BTW I need your help... Could you guys give me scenarios on why Mr Brennan's grandchildren are missing? I really need help with that... and I have to somehow have Lightman help the situation... Got any ideas? Please share with me! Thanks and see ya next time :)


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